The darkness was silent; like a cloak of velvet it clung to "The Frail's" body. He could tell between darkness and light, even if he could see so well in the shadows of night, and the underground, it was simply like seeing the world in two forms of color. For a dark-loving creature, "The Frail" liked the light, something in it's hue created an unnatural feeling within him, one that was of no ill boding.

He pondered if the woman was unconscious, knocked out by the force of his attack. He had put quite a lot of his weight and force behind it. No, there, he saw her move, breathing in, her female chest rising as she took in a sudden breath of air. The woman rose, steadying herself, he waited, a courtesy no Darkspawn would have given her, most would have leapt on her the moment she fell to the ground, or stood up, never giving her the opportunity to retaliate.

With yet another scream, the woman charged, her weapons haphazardly lunging towards her estimate of his chest. She lacked the eyesight within the darkness to see that "The Frail" was already facing his left side towards her, thus putting his shield between her, and him. He readied himself, lowering his body so that the shield on his upper arm would catch the weapons in her rage-drunken charge.

*Clang* the blades went as they impacted the shield, the sword skidding off of the metallic surface, gliding across the back of his neck, blood flowing freely from the wound that had been accidentally inflicted. "The Frail" was all too aware of the dangers his blood posed, he'd brought much pain upon others, and thus upon himself through his carelessness during his travels.

His blade arced over her head, a sure sign of death for any warrior in the woman's position, but it's fall missed her as the arm that carried it wrapped around the woman's own. With a few more arcs completed, "The Frail" grasped the woman's hand in his armpit with vice-like force, his arm wrapped around hers, forcing her arm to fixate straight, "The Frail" pushed with his blade-holding fist into the back of her shoulder, and with ease granted by the natural strength of a Darkspawn he dislocated her shoulder.

He let go. Her arm wasn't broken, but dislocating it would weaken her grip on the blade she wielded, and maybe force enough pain into her to bring her out of the frenzy he smelt about her personage. He stepped back some, giving the woman room, he didn't know how she would react. But with a small single dagger and a limp arm she posed far less of a threat.

"Mmmrrrrarhh," came the guttural sound, "The Frail" releasing a common Darkspawn noise, it was something strangely primal and instinctive that forced these sounds out from time to time. The sound that came next was something that would stop a person's heart, for it was such a frightening thought to be placed alongside that of a Darkspawn: speech, "Rarrouuuuhhrrraa-espite?"

((He basically says respite in the end there if you didn't get that.))

"But in you...I see the potential to see the Force die, to turn away from its will..."
"You are beautiful to me, exile. A dead spot in the Force, an emptiness in which its will might be denied."
"But no Jedi ever made the choice you did. To sever ties so completely, so utterly, that it leaves a wound in the Force..."
"I would have killed the galaxy to preserve you...You are more precious than you know..."-now...it's verbatim!-A quote from Darth Traya (Kreia)